Today is an anniversary.
I didn't blog much in 2007. I was really busy. And my mood was altered. And so, there is no entry to refer back to. But I remember the day. One year ago today.
H and I had difficulty conceiving our children. I had to take Clomid. And some other stuff as well, which I won't get into here. The medication has certain side effects that aren't at all pleasant. But ultimately, we got pregnant. Twice. So it was all worthwhile.
We were in Maui last September. And it was there that we learned that we were going to have a second child. We were ecstatic. And thankfully, the morning sickness didn't start until a few weeks post-vacation, so we still had a good time.
We came home and settled back into our routine. I went back to work. But the morning sickness was so awful this time around that I had trouble coping and keeping to my schedule, and I was taken out of work at the end of October. The plan was to return to work when the morning sickness subsided. Shortly thereafter, that plan was abandoned.
On this day last year, I was 10 weeks pregnant and suffering pronounced morning sickness. I was home alone with J, who had just gone down for his afternoon nap. I put a few toys away. And then I phoned H and my mother in a panic. There was blood. Red blood. Lots and lots of red blood.
I laid down and awaited their arrival. Mom would stay with J while H and I went to the emergency room.
We were scared. The bleed with J hadn't happened until I was 18 weeks along. J's issue was an abrupted placenta. And I ended up on bed rest for a combined total of 5 months. But this was different. This was earlier. And there was even more blood. I thought I'd lost my baby.
We arrived at the emergency room and were quickly seen. It seemed that history was repeating, and no one wanted to take chances. A check showed that I had not miscarried. "Threatened abortion" is the distasteful term given; it means "threatened miscarriage". I was put on rest, pending discussion with my obstetrician. A phone call and a couple of emails later, and I learned that my obstetrician wanted me to remain on bed rest until at least 20 weeks gestation. While it was too small to visualize on ultrasound, the symptomology indicated that the placenta was detatching. A second pregnancy, and a second abruption.
And ultimately, a second live birth. A second miracle.
I didn't get off bed rest until I was at 37 weeks. The bleeding just never resolved. And there were other complications that kept cropping up. It was hard. But it was worth it. I have my boys; my miracles.
On this day, we learned that a rare complication can still happen, and that it can occur more than once, defying probabilities. We learned that I just don't carry well, and we decided not to have any more children. And some days that saddens me, but it is for the best. Because neither H nor I ever want to go through that fear again, and we now know that it would happen.
Today is an anniversary. It marks a moment. Something we will always remember. On this day, we learned that our child was still with us, despite the complications and misgivings. We banded together as a family, with faith to beat the odds. We received help from family and friends. Prayer chains were begun and continued for seven months. We received support from others, too. Coworkers. Employers. Doctors.
Thanks to all of these, our miracle is here today.
Today is a good day.